


In darkness, be there light?

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Just a virus', they said, 'nothing to worry about...'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey Aid.” I blinked at my brother, optic shutters flickering as I tried to focus my blurry vision to actually see him.

“Don’t try to move. I’ve commed Hoist.”

“Wha?” I shook my helm slightly as several warnings popped up telling me that some systems were still not fully booted.

“You’ve been ill.” Streetwise shifted as the door chimed and Hoist slipped in.

“Good to see you awake.” He said as Streetwise shuffled himself and his seat to one side so Hoist could reach my side.

I felt the faint push of medical scans over my Electromagnetic field before he removed a cube of energon from his subspace. “Drink it slowly; we’ve had you on a medical grade infusion while you were in stasis.”

“What happened?” I managed to ask as I sat up with Streetwise’s help and began to sip at the energon. I grimaced as my tanks churned, almost rejecting the less refined energy before they settled.

“Just a virus.” Streets said casually as he pulled himself up onto the berth and slid in behind me so I could prop myself up on his chassis.

“It’s messed up some of your memory files so I’d prefer it if you stay in here until we get them sorted out. Your gestalt will be here so you won’t get bored.” He reminded me when my enthusiasm for remaining cooped up must have shown.

Streetwise tightened his arms as his EM field enveloped mine in a quick hug and a prod in the gestalt link. His mental touch was followed by the rest of the team who had no doubt been commed by Streets as soon as I woke. Focussing on the bond I could feel the strong steady presence of Streetwise behind me, Groove was next closest, boredom and monotony seeping out of his firewalls, he was most likely in the control room. I couldn’t get an exact reading on the location of the other two, but the sense of movement and activity suggested they were out on patrol.

“First Aid?” Hoist asked, obviously not for the first time as I tilted my head quizzically. “Don’t try and sort your memory files. I’d prefer to be here in case you start mixing things up.”

“Sure.” I agreed, already feeling my systems starting to cycle down into recharge as Hoist disconnected his uplink cable, I hadn’t even noticed him accessing my subroutines.

I jerked awake, energon coating my hands as I shoved away from the cold grey chassis I was holding. Falling I felt my helm smack into the floor as I crawled away.

“Aid?” Resetting my optics I stared at Hot Spot who had followed me off the berth. “What’s wrong?”

Staring at my hands, clean and free of energon, I shook my helm. “Bad memory file.”

“Ah.” Spot said as he wrapped his arms around me, “Hoist mentioned that might occur.” I felt him sooth the other presences in my processor, obviously alerted by my fear and alarm, before bringing all his attention back to me. He tugged me back towards the berth, snagging a datapad as we passed a shelf.

“Hoist says we need to keep you focussing on the here and now rather than the past.”

I accepted the pad, glad to see that my hands were finally steady. Scrolling through the contents I picked an old novel I hadn’t read in a while as Hot Spot settled down beside me.

“So, a virus?” I asked as I curled into the warmth of his chassis.

“Yes.” Spot nodded, his optics fixed on his own pad.

“It have a name?” I frowned as he shook his helm, I couldn’t be sure but there seemed to be something he wasn’t telling me. “Right.” Opening my own bookfile I started to read, ignoring Spot relaxing pistons and cables when I didn’t ask anything further. Sometimes they forget just how sensitive even my passive medical scanners are.

Which reminds me that I am a medic: ignoring the datapad I was supposed to be reading I started to search through my medical texts. My query about malicious virus infections returned several results which cause memory problems.

“Aid?”

“Yes.” I replied as I glanced up at Spot.

I could feel his concern over our link as well as read it on his faceplates. “You’ve been on the same page for a while.”

“Just... tired.” I said, grasping for an excuse he would believe, with Streetwise and Blades around he had got quite good at picking up untruths.

“Why don’t you recharge then.” He pulled the datapad out of my hand and placed it on the chair that Streetwise had been using, “Go on, I’ll watch over you.”

“Kay.” I agreed, making a note to follow up on my research before powering down.

I woke on an unfamiliar battlefield, human buildings rising up all around me. Two mechs were crouched in the alley way with me, one leaning heavily on me, a quick scan showing the shattered pelvic strut. The other was in no better shape, one shoulder mangled beyond my field ability to repair, the only positive thing being that he was still mobile.

The crunch of metal impacting concrete, followed by the sound of wild firing drew our attention as a short static laced comm. message pinged my communication.

“We have to move now.” I whispered, gently pulling the mech to his feet and out of the alley, his whine of pain muted as he turned his vocaliser off.

The cons were fully occupied as promised. The faint shimmer of displaced air followed by energy bolts appearing from nowhere was holding their attention and would hopefully keep it as Skyfire literally dropped out of the sky. Helping my two patients into his hold I waved him away, I would be more use here; Hoist and Fix-it were both back at base.

Sending a thank you message to Mirage I frowned as it bounced back undelivered. Soundwave or Blackout most likely.

A small clatter to one side focused my attention back on the battle as I dove for the floor, the wall behind me exploding in a shower of glass and concrete. Twisting onto my back I unshuttered my optics that I had closed to protect my optic lenses from glass shards, to find myself staring at the ceiling of my berth room.

“Streets? I asked as I looked around the room to see him once again sat by my side.

“What’s up Aid?”

“Nothing. Just didn’t think I’d been recharging that long.”

He nodded, accepting my explanation at face value as I read through a tag I had made before recharging, that was now insistently flashing or my attention.

Bringing the information on the different viruses up I was able to quickly eliminate a few of them, leaving only three that could be a possible match. But all of them focussed on rewriting the data pathways involved with memory recall and filing, meaning memories all the way from sparklinghood were jumbled. Whereas I could apparently bring up correct memories up until quite recently, it was only my newest memory files which were corrupted.

Retagging the research as important I turned my awareness back outwards to Streetwise. “Anything happen while I was out?” I casually asked.

“Apart from the battle where you were... caught that virus, not that much.”

Where I was... _what?_ I frowned, glad of my mask as I made sure I was projecting simple curiosity into the gestalt link

“I can’t remember the battle.” I admitted, not mentioning the small data packets that had been interrupting my recharge cycles.

“Oh, what’s your last memory?”

Pulling up the correct logs I ran the most recently dated one. “Medbay, Ratchet was teaching me how to treat compound shattering of support struts.” I added the date when he frowned and a quick flash of emotion flickered over the link, quickly suppressed before I could analyse it.

“That was the morning before the battle.” He finally said as the door chimed.

I dipped my head to Hoist as he made his was over to me. “Medbay still busy?” I asked as I realised I had never asked how long ago the skirmish had been.

Hoist pulled a portable scanner from his subspace, “There were quite a few serious cases.”

“Shouldn’t I be helping? I am Ratchet’s apprentice.”

“No. I don’t want you having a relapse.” He finished his scans and bustled out with a quiet farewell, Blades and Groove both appearing through the open door before he could close it.

“Hey bro, nice to see you awake when I’m here for once.”

Hey Groove.” I replied, rather distracted as I reran Hoist’s last words. Something hadn’t been adding up for a while, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. But Hoist had let something slip. Forgetting I am a medic perhaps, it’s common knowledge to any medic that virus’ don’t cause relapses. So what had happened? What are they hiding from me?

“You still not with it yet?” Blades asked as he sprawled on the floor, his carefree question and posture at odds with the concern I could feel him directing my way.

“Not really.” I said, taking the easy way out, “Confused and tired. You lot mind if I recharge some more? Hoist thinks it might help sort some of my data files.”

“Nah, go ahead bro, we all want you back to optimal status as soon as you can. Hurts to have you down bro.”

I sent a pulse of gratitude across our bond as I settled down and offlined my optics. Cycling my systems down I entered a light recharge, only to awake to the blaring of the base alarms.

Struggling upright as my systems crawled out of recharge I swayed as a rush of reassurance flooded the bond as Hot Spot spoke out of the darkness. “It’s just Ravage, the patrols have it covered, go back to your berth.”

I sank back onto the still warm mesh padding, something about the alarms unsettling me, a strange foreboding that I couldn’t place.

When I next onlined the room was empty of my gestalt mates, but a glowing datapad was sat beside my berth with a cube of energon.

Reading over the message I felt my engine rumble, a flicker of annoyance escaping my control to echo through our bond. Unmistakable amusement returning as I flipped the datapad onto the berth. Now I know how they feel when they are in medbay indeed and they’ll be back as soon as possible from helping with a human rescue operation.

Narrowing my optical shutters I stared contemplatively at the datapad, then at the door. If they were away for a while then they wouldn’t even notice that I’d been out.

I felt my mouthplates pull into a smirk as I slipped out the door, my medical override code making short work of the lock. Now I know how they feel when they make a break for freedom from the medbay and actually make it.

Meandering down the corridor with no real goal in mind the voices of the two young humans draw my attention. It was only my name which stopped me from stepping out to meet them. Instead I dial my audial sensors up, recording the rest of the conversation as I rerun the first part that had included my designation.

“I’ve found out what’s wrong with First Aid.” Spike said.

“You have?”

“Yeah, apparently he has something Hoist calls memory looping, something like the Stress thing soldiers get, but worse.”

“Post traumatic stress syndrome?” Carly asked, a note of confusion in her voice. “Well I suppose it must have been stressful but...”

I stopped listening as I pulled up all the information I had on memory looping, a sense of dread forming in my tanks. I remember discussing this with Ratchet and hoping I never had to treat it. Opening my medical texts I pulled up the textbook definition for memory looping.

 _  
Severe trauma causing a single memory file to be hardwritten into a mechs core coding instead of filed in the memory logs. Once accessed the file plays in a loop until broken by outside interference or deactivation. Care must be taken that the mech not be allowed to access anything that may trigger the memory file to play. Dependent upon the severity of the trigger this may be impossible. In such cases the only solution has been a complete processor wipe to remove the memory file so that the spark may function normally. However due to erasure of core personality files and programming this is not recommended unless relapses persist.  
_

I frowned; it certainly fit better than the virus slag they’d all been giving me. If the memory of the last battle had been written to my core files it would explain why I couldn’t access it, except by accident when cycling up from recharge as my automatic system checks run across it.

But what could be so bad I would hard write a memory file? I’m a medic; we have extra buffers to deal with exactly this type of thing.

I don’t think I want to know. In fact, having studied this... affliction I am certain I don’t want to know.

I slipped back into my quarters without anybody the wiser that I had left. Well, Red Alert had probably seen me, but he didn’t count, he had cameras everywhere. Collapsing onto my berth I snagged the pad I had left lying on it from under my elbow and downloaded a novel out of Teletraan’s memory banks.

Feeling my brothers approaching I sat up and put my story aside, but whatever I was about to say fled my processor as they trooped through the door.

Scuffed armour was covered in a fine layer of ash and I froze as the scent of fire invaded the room. Voices mingled in my processor, the past and present colliding as I started to slip into a memory file.

A blast rattled my armour, soot and ash filtering out of the sky as I made my way through the human settlement.

“Aid?” The question was barely a whisper of sound as I slid into the alleyway; two of the minibots, almost disguised by a layer of grime greeted me. Running my scanners over them I opened my comm. to request Skyfire’s assistance in evacuating them. His acknowledgement came as I started to patch the two of them up.

“Aid? Come on snap out of it.”

“Spot?” I clung to him as the rest of them gathered round, faceplates concerned and worried as the flare of a scan across my EM field alerted me to Hoist’s presence.

“You’re hurt.” I said as I realised I was clinging to several pieces of rather charred armour.

“I’ll be fine Aid.”

“I’ll fix it.” I said as I tried to untangle myself, I might be slowly going insane but I could still fix something like this.

The arms around me tightened as Spot gently shook his helm, “Later Aid.”

“Fine.” I relented as my struggling only caused him to wince in pain. “At least let Ratchet see it.”

“Hoist can deal with it.” He said as he finally loosened his arms, allowing me to turn to the medic in question.

“Where’s Ratchet?” I asked. The dread at the back of my processor deciding now was a good time to push itself to the front, the room around me fading. Faintly I heard Hoist curse, fear and concern reaching me through my gestalt link. I vaguely heard Hoist say that wiping my memory wasn’t enough, this is the third time and that the last option may be better before the room finally disappeared.

The scent of ozone was strong, a strange mix of plasma, energon and fire. The frontliners called it energising, but to me it has always been the smell of death. I felt Hot Spot push on the bond, a silent request for an update. I sent him a quick prod to show I am listening.

 _Soundwave has been spotted in your sector and comms are down, have you seen Gears, Huffer, Mirage, Ratchet or Skyfire?_

Gears and Huffer are injured, evac’ed with Skyfire, enroute to base now. Mirage cleared the area for us, no idea where he is now. I’ll try and meet up with Ratchet if I can find him.

Acknowledged Aid, take care of yourself. His presence faded back to a vague awareness in the back of my processor as I pinged Ratchet, hoping the location beacons weren’t also being blocked. The automatic response that I received showing that he was quite close by as I made my way through the buildings.

Peering around the last corner I froze as I stared at the scene in front of me. I must have made some kind of noise as Vortex twisted to see me, his gun appearing from subspace, his other arm remaining around Ratchet’s neck.

“Well, well, another medic has come to play.” His voice was full of dark amusement as he untangled his claws from where they were buried amongst wiring and energon lines, Ratchet hitting the floor with a clatter of unresponsive limbs.

“Well, do you not want to play?” He asked as he motioned me forwards with his gun when I neither moved to engage him nor turned to run.

Behind him blue optics snapped on; dull with pain as they took in their surroundings and company. Locking gazes with me Ratchet mouthed a single word before lashing out at Vortex’s closest ankle strut with his saw. The chopper yelped in pain as his leg buckled and he crashed to his knees. Righting himself he rolled away from the second strike and brought his gun to bear.

The paralysis which had frozen my chassis, that had stopped me from following Ratchet’s command to run, let me go as the energy blast left the gun.

At such close range he couldn’t miss.

I screamed as I slammed into the Decepticon, my own saw, something I had never used as a weapon before biting deeply into his armour. I felt it shatter beneath us as our combined weight hit the floor.

Vortex made a strange whimpering sound as I moved my weight to reveal that my saw had breached his spark chamber.

Narrowing my optics I jammed a hand between the cracked metal, closing it around the pulsing spark. Vortex’s optics widened as he whimpered, his hands reaching up to ineffectually claw at my arm. “Please.”

I smirked beneath my mask as I withdrew my hand. Vortex screamed. I closed my fingers, the pulsing ball between them guttering out as its owner fell silent.

Ignoring the rapidly greying chassis I scrambled over to Ratchet. Focussing my scanners I hissed as the report as I started to remove his outer armour to access the damage as I screamed down my bond, panic and fear shutting out any response they may have been making.

Energon coated my hands as I clamped off all the leaks I could see, slowly draining the fluid out of his frame so that I could see the damage beneath. I flinched as my processor, long experienced now at triage decisions told me it was already a lost cause. The blast had passed through several major energon lines which feed the spark, the main coolant pump had been practically vaporised at such close range and the backup was peppered with shrapnel and the armour beneath me was already beginning to overheat.

“Aid?” I jumped as I realised he was online, his voice faint and static laced as he worked past the pain he must be in.

“Ratchet. Master.” His lips curved upwards at the form of address so rarely used amongst the Autobots, despite my being his official apprentice.

“Stay?”

“Always.” I whispered as he reached a shaky hand towards my helm. I leant down, holding his hand to my mask as his optics dimmed.

“Creator. I said as he relaxed, paint starting to fade as his once vibrant spark passed into the matrix. “I’m sorry.” I heard my vocaliser crackle as I wrapped my arms around the greying frame. “I’m so sorry.”

...

Peering around the last corner I froze as I stared at the scene in front of me. I must have made some kind of noise as Vortex twisted to see me, his gun appearing from subspace, his other arm remaining around Ratchet’s neck.

“Well, well, another medic has come to play...”

* * *

Darkness.

 _I?_

I am?

Optics online with a flash.

 _Where?_

“Lifeline, welcome to the Ark.”

 _Lifeline?_

Is that me?


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey Lifeline. How are you feeling?”

“Like the next person to ask me that will be my test subject for this.” I hold up the datapad I am studying, waving it threateningly at Blades as he leans over the back of my chair to view the screen.

“How’s that going?”

“Ok.” I say as I put the pad down and curl my hands around the half empty cube of energon I have been neglecting. “I feel like I already know half of it.”

“Well, you’re a medic. It makes sense you’d know medical things.” He says as he slides into the seat beside me, stealing what’s left of my energon with a grin.

“I suppose.” I allow as he hands back the empty cube, his armour clattering in amusement.

“Don’t study too hard.” He says as he gets back up, heading for the door.

I pick the pad up again, focussing on the text and diagrams that Hoist has set me to learning. And as with all the previous datapads it is almost like I have learnt it all before as the knowledge seems to slip into place without me having to rearrange files and defragment it.

I asked Hoist if that was normal, but he just shrugged, said he isn’t a neurosurgeon, just a general practitioner.

I wish one of the other medics had survived the battle where I was injured. They don’t think I’ve heard, but I’ve listened to the crew, Ratchet would have known the answer.

And the other one, they say less about, but it could be that he was part of Defensor and they don’t want to upset the rest of my gestalt. I can feel it sometimes when they overhear something; that they are trying not to compare me to First Aid. Sometimes I have to wonder what he was like. I have to wonder if they resent that I have taken what was his space on the team.


End file.
